Snowbarry oneshots
by Andie Leigh
Summary: A collection of prompts sent to me on tumblr Ratings vary with each chapter A new chapter is a new story Feel free to send requests in the comments section!
1. Chapter 1

**anon said : snowbarry - 'the fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear' AU**

**Just Maybe**

Caitlin tugged the red nightgown further down on her arms, clutching it in between cold fingers. Winding her arms around her body, she felt the chill of night like a breath smoothing against her shivering skin, beneath the red garment that covered most of her modesty.

3 _freaking am, _and the shrill alarm had pierced the sleepy atmosphere, and the residents of the small, fairly dingy flats, had been forced to vacate their beds, and stand in the winter chill, awaiting the hopeful sound of a fire engines cry.

Caitlin was annoyed, she was. She'd been working late the entire _week _at S.T.A.R labs, and had been looking forward to getting a full night's sleep for once. But some _asshole _roasting s'mores apparently hadn't got the memo. She was out, in the cold, at 3am and she wasn't happy.

And yet, she found she still couldn't blame the cold, for the blooming blush on her cheeks.

But she could blame the man next to her.

The mostly naked, firm-looking, shivering, and somehow at the same time both adorable and really quite attractive, man next to her.

Damn him.

When the alarm had rung, she'd been sleeping in shorts (there'd been a problem with her central heating, it was freezing outside, but a Tropicana inside her small home) and a flimsy top, and amid sleep deprivation and rising panic, had only pulled her red nightgown from its hanger on her wardrobe, not realising her mistake until she'd taken her first step outside, and then it was too late to turn around.

She'd thought she'd be in the worst state out there, but glancing again at the man standing next to her in just his underpants, she realized, she was far from it.

She couldn't help but stare at him out the corner of her eye because it shouldn't be possible for a man that adorable to be attractive.

He had brown hair that looked like he ran his hands through it a lot, shockingly green eyes that she yet to grow accustomed too, (just so _bright_and _distracting) _and, as her eyes slipped further down, subtle muscle and smooth skin that made her bite her lip and blush deeper.

He had a much taller frame than her too, meaning she had to crane her head upwards to look at him, which made it much harder when she was trying to be sneaky.

Her neighbour, Barry Allen, had moved into the flat next to hers a couple months ago, but they had yet to become formally introduced to one another, only occasionally exchanging polite smiles when their eyes met, (admittedly, this really wasn't the first time she'd stared at him) or that one morning they both came out their doors the same time.

He was moving so fast she'd barley caught the smile he'd sent across his shoulder.

But now… well.

Really, when was there a better time to introduce yourself to the man you'd formed a schoolgirl crush on, at 3am, with both of you with very little clothing?

She was thinking of a way to start a conversation, when she heard the low voice startlingly close to her ear.

"It was a joke."

She turned suddenly, seeing Barry leaning slightly, head turned towards her, and a wide grin enveloping his features.

She gulped.

"Excuse me?" She asked, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

"My attire. My friend, Iris, she thought it'd be funny to stealmy clothes. She's annoying like that." He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, and her lips folded into a smile of their own.

"I wasn't gonna sleep in jeans, and uh, here we are." He finished, and she heard the nervousness in his voice. (A mental fourteen year old Caitlin 'awed' internally).

"I had a heating malfunction in my apartment. It's like a sauna in there and I've been rendered helpless to the situation." He grinned, eyes briefly fleeting down to slim legs left uncovered by the robe.

She blamed the red blooming on her cheeks to the wind.

She leaned a little closer to him, eyebrows lifting as though she were about to spill a secret.

"I wouldn't have slept in jeans either."

He laughs lightly, and the sound is so soft and gentle against the harsh mumbles and groans against muttering people forced from their beds, that she lets out a quiet laugh as well, and she can't remember the last time she laughed so freely.

He's still grinning when she looks back at him, and her smile's still fixed firmly in place, and it's not awkward, as they just stare at each other for a little while.

He offers his hand, palm outstretched, and she has to lean back a little so it won't brush against her chest. (Don't you _dare_ blush, Snow.)

"Barry Allen. I've, uh, actually kinda wanting to introduce myself, but I've been pretty busy as of late." He scratches the back of his head with the hand that is not outstretched, and she suddenly realises that she's just gazing at him.

"Oh! Oh, yeah I mean I know. Not-Not that you've been busy, ha, no I didn't know that, I mean that would make me some kind of stalker. I'm not! I swear I'm not actually a stalker, I have a job that keeps me busy and um and I meant I knew your name because uh, sorry what was I saying?"

The bemused grin plastered across those lips is enough to make her face turn beetroot red – no mistaking it for the wind now.

"Y'know, I'm not actually sure."

She laughs unsteadily, as he struggles to contain bouts of laughter.

She slips her hand into his, squeezing lightly, and ignoring the slight butterfly_eruption _in her stomach.

"Caitlin. Caitlin Snow. It's nice to meet you, even if I've embarrassed myself already." She brings a hand to her cheek, biting her lip with. The urge to hide behind her hands is really, quite overwhelming.

"No, not at all. It's my pleasure, Caitlin." So maybe she likes the way her name rolls off his lips and the way his eyes are still full of laughter, and the way he holds onto her hand for just a second too long before releasing it.

Maybe she liked it.

Just _maybe._


	2. Chapter 2

_**cammienray said:**_

_**snowbarry prompt: Barry finds out Caitlin never dresses up for Halloween and he makes her do a couple's costume with him.**_

**Some little lemons at the end, this chapter falls into the M category a lil' bit :)**

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON'T LIKE HALLOWEEN?"

Barry's incredulous shout carried through the halls of S.T.A.R labs, bouncing off walls and echoing around corners. Caitlin winced against the loud noise, turning her head to glare at him.

"It's _stupid _and _meaningless _and I don't see the point in dressing yourself up or going asking strangers, who could be psychopaths, for _candy."_ She shoots back, and Barry throws his arms up in the air, exasperated.

"The point is fun, Caitlin!" He sighs, then comes and sits down behind her, before spinning her chair around to face him. She begins to protest, but he puts a finger to her lips, ignoring her eyebrow raise.

"Alright, listen. Iris invited me to a party tonight, and I wasn't gonna go because I thought it'd be lame and I didn't wanna be the third wheel with her and her boyfriend, buut, if you come I won't be _and _I can show you why Halloween is amazing." Barry finished on a smile, seemingly proud of his little speech.

"Forget it Barry. I'm not coming." She said, attempting to spin around in her chair again, only to let out an angry huff when he clamped down tighter on the chair.

"BARRY-"

"I'll get you three caramel iced frappés."

Caitlin stopped short, studying him with an analytical gaze.

"Six."

"Three."

_"Six."_

"Four."

_"_Six."

"Hey, what I'm doing here, it's called negotiation. Maybe you try it some time?"

Caitlin narrowed her eyes. "Seven."

"Woah, alright, alright!" He sighed, shaking his head. "Six caramel iced frappé's. Do we have a deal?" He challenged, sticking out his hand and raising and eyebrow at her.

Caitlin thought for a moment, wondering. "That depends. Do we have double cream?"

He groaned loudly throwing his head back. She smiled.

"Alright, fine, fine! Now do we have a deal?" She looked at his pleading, smiling face and sighed, turning her head to the side. What was the worst that could happen?

"Fine. Deal."

. . . . . . .

There was no way she was wearing this.

Caitlin again looked down at the garments below her. She could tell from a single _glance _that they'd stick to her like a second skin, tight and clingy. She sighed, picking up the top between two fingers, twirling it around. It's black, like the rest of the outfit, off the shoulders and low cut. The leggings below it are long, looking like they'd cover up to her hips (and _cling _and _hold _to them for dear life), with a slight shine to the legs. Below this is a fairly plain black belt, a big gold buckle in the middle, clearly meant to draw attention. And finally, a pair of bright red heels to compliment the otherwise almost completely black outfit.

She _knew _she shouldn't have let Barry pick her costume.

But he'd convinced her, looking at her with those big sad green eyes (and the promise of yet _another _caramel frappe, with even more _double cream _but, hey! Those things were expensive, and as long as she was allowing him to drag her to a night of people in slutty costumes dry humping each other _and _leaving her outfit choice to him, she was going to get her money's worth).

But, really? _Sandy? _From bloody _grease?_

He sure knew how to be original.

Her fingertips were just grazing the phone in her pocket when she stopped suddenly, thinking.

Those drinks _were _quite expensive.

And this costume _did _seem like it cost him a fair bit.

(And she really didn't want to let him down, but let's not focus on that.)

She groaned in frustration, yanking her hand away from the phone in her pocket. This boy was _impossible._

. . . . . . .

Caitlin smoothed down non-existent wrinkles in her too-tight outfit, studying herself in the mirror, trying desperately to give herself a little more room in the outfit.

She'd curled her hair, parting it on the side slightly, soft brown curls falling over her shoulder. She wore dark eye shadow, filtering in both dark and light tones, making her eyes stand from their normal, muddy brown, to something sharper, brighter. She hadn't added much other makeup, using only mascara to accentuate her already long lashes, and a pale pink lip gloss on her lips.

The outfit, as she'd expected it to, hugged against the outline of her body. Trailing the curve of her hips and the length of her thigh, Caitlin felt _exposed._

The shrill ring of her doorbell alerts her to a visitor, who she knew would be Barry, and pulls her away from a session of intense preening.

Caitlin trudges over the door, stepping like she's wading through mud, and pulls to door open to Barry.

Or, to be more specific, Barry's back.

The first thing she sees is black. Because that's basically all he's wearing. A leather jacket hangs around his shoulders, with a large white 'T' at the centre, next to it some crudely drawn birds, and then below, the animals are labelled.

Oh god, he managed to find a leather jacket that said _T birds._

He wears black jeans, not _nearly _as tight as hers are, and from what she can see from the back of his head, his brown hair's been gelled back in a truly Danny Zuko style.

In short, she's glad she's not the only one that looks ridiculous.

He spins suddenly, and _what was she saying about ridiculous? _

He wears a tight white shirt that hugs to _everything_, his abdomen on display for her eyes to _rake_, and dark sunglasses that cover his eyes from his view, grudgingly she thinks they probably look as good as the rest of his does.

A cigarette dangles from his lips, unlit, and she can't help but be drawn to his mouth, then catching her eyesight wandering, she raises an eyebrow at him.

He pulls his cigarette from his lips suddenly, beginning to speak.

"Why, this car is Auto-matic." He pulls his glasses from his eyes, whipping his head to the side without turning to look at her.

"It's System-matic." His head goes to the other side, and they still haven't made eye contact.

He turns to look at her suddenly, and her expression is the same, eyebrow cocked and head tilted to the side as she studies him with an analytical stare.

"Why, its Greased Lig-" He cuts off suddenly, choking on his words. Caitlin rushes to his side at once, clutching to his arm and feeling his pulse.

"Barry, what is it? What's wrong? Have you not eaten enough today? Because you know you need to-"

"No, no no." He says, turning to look at her, his eyes studying her outfit, the way the material clings to her skin, the slight dip of cleavage the top exposes, and finally, her hair, her makeup, and her eyes.

He smiles such a simple smile and it's still enough to make butterflies explode in her stomach.

"You look great, Caitlin. Really, really great."

She smiles, laughs a little breathless laugh, but then rolls her eyes, going back into her apartment to pull on her own leather jacket.

"You still owe me those drinks!"

. . . . .

She may never admit this, but Caitlin actually has a lot of fun with Barry that night.

When she'd first arrived at the party, she'd felt awkward, out of place, and wanted nothing more than to desperately cling to the wall, and be a perfectly painted wallflower. But of course, Barry had _insisted _(and maybe reminded her that he was going to probably have to get a second mortgage on his house in order to pay for all those drinks) and despite her herself, she'd actually grown to enjoy the scene.

And sure, alcohol _may _have played _something _of a helping hand in that, but it wasn't like she was completely wasted.

It wasn't like she was laughing at Barry's hair because she'd ruffled it so many times in the night it had now become dishevelled and reminded her of that of a baby hedgehog's back. It wasn't like she'd seen Barry post pictures on his Instagram account of her pulling a face that for some reason looked strangely pouty. And it _definitely _wasn't like she had this really warm feeling in the pit of her stomach, that made her just want to jump around and _dance._

She really wanted to dance though.

She tugs on Barry's hand, knowing it's a little childish when he's engaged in a conversation with Iris, but he smiles still, asking her something along the line of 'what's up?' but she's not completely sure because the music is so _loud _in here.

She opts not for an answer but instead, drags him away from the conversation, and onto the makeshift dance floor, where sweaty bodies grind against each other. She frowns, deciding that this isn't what she wants to do.

So there, in the middle of the dance floor, accompanied by a song that is in no way slow or sweet, she wraps her arms around his neck, and shifts so he can place hers against waist, and simply begins to sway.

It's a little awkward at first, he doesn't seem to know where to place his feet or hands, but beneath Caitlin's arms, he _they _fall into a rhythm, granted one that doesn't match the beat or the atmosphere, and really just doesn't make much sense _at all, _but one that seems to fit them both quite well.

She doesn't know how long they stay, just swaying and brushing carefully against each other, but eventually (and inevitably), his hands slip lower, falling onto her hips, only gently at first, just a light touch, but then she looks up at him and his eyes look so _hungry _and she feels so _warm _that she can't _help _but move upwards to slant her lips over his.

It's a clumsy kiss and neither of them know what they're really doing, but it's warm and for now, it's enough.

. . . . .

For later, it's not.

They stumble back into his home, door ajar as he gently pushes her backwards, hands gripping on her waist. Her fingers tangle in his hair, gasping through their heated kiss, pulling away for only a moment, as he stretches a leg out to kick the front door shut.

His warm lips find their way to her throat and he's so _past _being gentle, and he sucking and nipping and she knows she _knows _she'll have the marks of their affair there tomorrow morning but it's so _good _and she'll be dammed if she'd going to stop now.

Her lips feel cold again, so she dips her head down to connect his to hers. She doesn't know why she hasn't done this before and she's so lost in the moment, that she barely realises what she's doing when her small fingers slip underneath his white shirt and his graze at the bareness where her top has ridden up.

He's solid and firm and _strong _beneath her and she wants _more _and then suddenly his shirt is somewhere on the floor, lost and she's so glad of it.

She falls back onto his sheets, not objecting when he begins to pull the tight material of her top away from her, glad to be rid of the thing, and moaning _moaning _when his fingers skim along her bare torso.

As his fingers dance along her belt buckle, and his mouth finds solace on her chest she finds herself gasping out,

"You _so _still owe me those drinks." And she sounds breathless and _husky, _and she's sure she probably wouldn't believe herself but he just smirks and it's just so _in place _in the darkness of the bedroom and he doesn't even need to answer because his mouth does more than satisfy.

** Well, THAT was fun. **

**If you guys wanna send me any prompts for snowbarry fanfictions, then you can request at my tumblr, once-upon-a-blake!**

**(Feel free to follow as well y'know- just sayin'.)**


End file.
